Snapshots
by DragonRose42
Summary: Sirius confronts Remus about Remus's feelings for Tonks. Sirius/Remus. Set post-PoA. All characters, settings, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling.


Snapshots

Sirius stared at Remus from across the polished wooden table, unnoticed by the taller man. Remus, a steaming mug of Earl Grey in front of him, sat staring out the kitchen door, eyes lingering on the spot where Nymphadora Tonks had just waved goodbye on her way upstairs and out of the Black family home. Sirius watched Remus's smile, soft and gentle, so very Remus like. Sirius observed Remus without Remus noticing. Looked at him as Remus turned back to his Daily Prophet, one hand wrapped loosely around the mug as he looked at the headlines. Weeks, Sirius thought to himself. Weeks of this. It couldn't go on. There was nothing for it. He had to say something before he simply dropped dead from the worry of it all.

"Rem," he said abruptly, and Remus looked up at him, the small smile shifting slightly, almost imperceptibly. Had he not known Remus for most of his life, Sirius thought, he might not have even noticed the change. The tightening around the mouth. The slight clench of the jaw. The ever so subtle coolness of his usually warm amber eyes.

"Yes?" Remus asked lightly, pleasantly.

"I…we should…" Sirius had always prided himself on being quick with words. He could always think of the right thing to say to make someone laugh, or grimace, or scowl. He had used his quick wit to get into and out of many a detention back at school. He had been pleased, upon leaving Azkaban, that that skill had not left him entirely, not the way his patronous had. But Remus…he had a bit of a hard time speaking around Remus. Not when they were kids, at Hogwarts, or even the few years after. He had a harder time shutting up back then. But this Remus, this grown up, worn out version that Sirius had spent the last few months getting to know again, this Remus made Sirius struggle slightly for words.

"Yes?" Remus asked again, and Sirius realized he had trailed off, lost himself in thoughts as he so often seemed to these days.

"You know what I've always liked about you?" Sirius asked. It helped, sometimes, to start with remembering Remus as he had once been. Helped Sirius get back into the swing of conversation with the other man. Remus shook his head. "I liked that we could always have the tough conversations. The ones neither of us really wanted to have. I always knew you could handle it, even if you didn't want to."

The tightening around the jaw was more obvious now. Sirius wondered if Remus was thinking, as Sirius was, back to the fights in the months leading up to James and Lily's deaths. The screaming matches at four in the morning. Or rather, Sirius screaming, and Remus sitting silently, waiting for Sirius to finish before he cut Sirius down with a few well-chosen words. Remus had always been concise in the face of Sirius's verbosity. Sharp and to the point, like a well-aimed knife, that was Remus. But he had never backed down from a fight, never cowered the way Peter…well, it was better for everyone if Sirius avoided thinking about Peter as much as possible.

"I suppose," Remus said now, dragging Sirius back to the present, "That's a fair assessment. Why do you bring it up now?"

"Because…because we need to have a conversation that you don't want to have," Sirius said. "That neither of us wants to have, actually."

Remus set the paper down finally, turning his full attention on Sirius. Sirius wished they were sitting closer together, not four chairs down and across the kitchen table from each other. But maybe it was better this way. Better not to let himself get distracted by the sheer magic of being able to touch Remus again, being able to hold his hand, and run a finger along his scars, new and old. Being able to kiss him. No, it was better to be separated by four feet of solid oak.

"And what conversation is that?" Remus asked calmly.

"About…us?" Sirius hadn't meant it to come out a question. But even though he knew he needed to get it out, get it off his chest, out of his chest really, from where the thoughts had been burrowing, tearing him apart for weeks, even though he knew he couldn't go on without saying something, a small, cowardly part of him wanted Remus to refuse to talk about it, pretend that nothing was wrong, and just allow them to carry on like they had been. It wasn't perfect, but nothing in Sirius's life had ever been perfect. Why did that mean it had to end?

Just as Sirius was beginning to truly regret starting the conversation, Remus sighed, a typical world-weary sigh, the same sigh that Remus had been sighing since they had first met in the Great Hall all those many years before. It was his, 'Really, Sirius, how did that niffler get in there?' sigh, and his, 'How many nights of detention did you get for that one, Padfoot?' sigh, and his, 'Of course I love you, you great twat, but get out of my light now, I'm trying to read, alright?' sigh. It was a sigh that Sirius had once thought he hated, until he stopped hearing it.

"Alright then," Remus agreed, and looked evenly over at Sirius, who squirmed now that he had Remus's full attention. "Go ahead."

"I…" Back to the basics, Sirius thought. Go back to what you know. "I love you."

Remus half smiled, the left side of his mouth twisting upwards. "I love you, Padfoot." Sirius let himself enjoy the words for a moment, let them settle around him like a comfortable old blanket. He knew Remus wasn't one to say it back automatically. Remus had to mean it, every single time. While Sirius had once thrown the words around with abandon, telling everyone and everything how much he loved them, Remus said it rarely, and only to Sirius.

"It's just…" Sirius shrugged helplessly, wishing Remus would cut in, talk over him. But it wasn't Remus's way, not when they were kids, and not now. Remus would let him say his piece, however long it took him to get it out. "I've loved you for so long, Rem. So many years of my life I've spent loving you. Decades. Sometimes it feels like eons. You know?"

Remus nodded, looking like he could feel every one of those years resting on his shoulders. "I do know. I've loved you just as long, Sirius. Even when I didn't always want to."

"Exactly," Sirius said. "Our love surpassed all that. Everything that happened, every terrible thing, and every good one. Our love was bigger than all that."

The words were coming back to him now. He remembered, haltingly, how to do this with Remus. How to rant, and let Remus listen. How to get it all out and let Remus come in at the end to sum it all up, tie it up neatly and put a bow on it. He could feel himself relearning the rhythm.

"Our love seemed bigger than anything, once. Bigger than school. Than Voldemort. Than all of it. It didn't matter, did it? What happened? None of it mattered as long as I had you, and you had me. And even when we were apart, all those years. I thought…I loved you so much. It was tragic. Terrible. But glorious. Shining, too. I thought it was, at least. I thought…

"I always thought I was the great love of your life. But maybe I'm just the tragic one. We just never got the timing right. Fumbling around as kids, ignoring what was right in front of our faces, barely even admitting it to ourselves. We got, what, two weeks at Hogwarts? A year after? Before the lying and the suspicions. And then everything just..."

"Fell apart." Remus supplied the words. Tidied it up. Just like he always did. Sirius nodded, swallowed, forced himself to go on, in spite of Remus looking more exhausted than Sirius had seen him since they had found each other once more. Sirius pushed through anyway.

"And then twelve years of waiting, and wishing, and wanting. When I got out, when I offered Harry a home, I thought I would be offering you one, as well. Or you me, perhaps. But then…everything. And more running, and missing, and wishing, and what ifs. And here we've had, what, a few months? A year? I always thought I would grow old and cranky with you, Remus. But instead we've just gotten snapshots along the way."

"Why is it over? What are you saying?" Remus gripped his mug tightly, his knuckles going white as he stared at Sirius.

"It's okay," Sirius said, not quite looking him in the eye, unable to continue to stare into those liquid amber orbs, so steady, so calm, so steely as they stared at Sirius. "I understand. All I want right now is something stable, something familiar, steady, old and worn in and comfortable. You want new, and exciting, and fresh, and optimistic. Tonks is all of those things. I get it. I understand."

Sirius saw, slightly out of focus, as Remus blinked once, then twice. Furrowed his brow. Bit his lip. Turned suddenly back into that same seventeen-year-old boy who had confessed his feelings to Sirius under the quidditch bleachers, hurried and nervous, with many glances over his shoulder as though terrified that someone might catch them. Sirius longed to erase the worried face now as he had then, with his lips on Remus's, and his hands in Remus's hair, longer then than it was now. Sirius gripped the table instead, and willed himself to remain silent, to let Remus have a chance to process and speak before Sirius butted back in.

"What are you talking about?" Remus said finally. "What do you mean Tonks is fresh and exciting?"

Sirius shrugged and forced himself to look Remus in the eye. Remus's grip was so tight that Sirius was sure he was about to break the mug he was clutching. "Don't be coy, Moony. I've seen the looks. The smiles. I think I know you well enough by now to know what I'm seeing. It's okay," he added as the color drained out of Remus's face. Remus, who could lie so well about important things, things that were life and death, but had no poker face for anything else. Remus, who Sirius sometimes felt he could read like a book.

"I don't…know what you're talking about," Remus said hesitantly.

"Come on, Rem," Sirius said, willing himself to keep his voice light and easy, even as his heart pounded, and his stomach felt like it was weighed down with lead. "I'm not blind. And I get it, trust me. Tonks is…well, there's a reason she's one of the few family members I still talk to, isn't there? She's…she's great."

"Are you…" Remus took a deep breath, and Sirius followed suit. Remus tried again. "Are you saying you think I fancy…that I fancy Tonks?"

"Remus," Sirius said, wondering if he might be able to manage a smirk. Better not risk it, he decided. He wasn't sure he had that kind of control over his facial expressions at the moment. Best to focus on keeping his voice even and calm. "It's okay. Like I said. Our timing has always been off. And she's so cheerful, and…shiny. I understand entirely."

"I don't," Remus said, coming closer to cutting Sirius off than Remus ever did. "I don't fancy her. I love you, Sirius."

"I know," Sirius said, and he felt his voice start to waver as he did so. He swallowed hard and said, "But loving me isn't exactly easy, is it? And fancying Tonks is. Hell, you wouldn't be alone, I imagine. Have you seen the way Charlie Weasley looks at her?"

"I don't fancy anyone," Remus said firmly. "I don't. Why would you say that?"

"Protest all you like, Moons, it doesn't make it any less true," Sirius said. He felt rather proud of himself. At how well he had held it together. No tears. No screaming. No running out of the room. From the outside, one might not even realize that he was quietly falling apart inside.

"It isn't true," Remus said stiffly. "Stop it, Sirius."

"Rem…" Why was he doing this? Trying to convince Remus that he was falling for someone else? He should just agree. 'Of course you don't love her, Remus, only having a laugh. As if you could ever look at anyone else the way you look at me? And by the way, have I mentioned how magnificently handsome and brilliant you are lately?' Brush it away. Pretend like it hadn't happened. Squash down the panic in his chest and try to just breathe instead. Ignore it all and carry on. Live out the rest of his life pretending not to know that Remus wanted more than him. Ah, yes. That was why he was doing this. "Remus, please just…don't make this harder than it has to be. Don't lie to me."

Remus ran both hands through his hair. It was a gesture that had dominated their teenage years, but one Sirius hadn't seen since he had left Azkaban. In the months since Remus had moved in with him at Grimmauld Place, Sirius had watched, carefully, cataloging the differences between this Remus and the old Remus, his Remus. The differences were subtle, but they were there. No more sugar in his tea. Bob Dylan on the record player instead of The Beatles. No more clearing his throat before ever sentence. No, this new Remus spoke as though he expected people to listen to him, and listen carefully. That was a change. And no more running hands through his long, molten gold hair. His hair was short now, and greying, and he never ran a single finger through it. Until now.

"Okay," Remus said, and Sirius felt the floor drop out from under him. He had known, had _known_ that Remus had felt something for Tonks. Had known for weeks. Had known it in his head, and his heart, and his bones. But apparently they hadn't gotten the message to him stomach, because the single word from Remus caused Sirius's entire abdomen to lurch, feeling as though it might run away entirely.

"Okay?" Sirius managed to say.

"You're not…" Remus gnawed on the inside of his cheek, a habit he had picked up from Sirius years before. Sirius tried not to remember that the hands in the hair had been a habit he had picked up as well, this one from James. Sirius squashed memories of Prongs back down, focusing on the living, breathing Marauder right there in front of him. "You're not entirely wrong, Sirius."

"Oh," Sirius said, and as calm as he tried to will his voice to be, he knew that this single word, this one sound, betrayed him, betrayed how sick these words had made him feel. Remus hurried to speak again.

"But you're not entirely right, either," he said quickly. "It's nothing, Padfoot. It's a silly little crush, that's all. You're right that she's bright, and cheerful, and…I find her somewhat amusing. That's all it is. Just a little school-boy crush. Nothing more."

Silence fell between them, stretched and taught, and Sirius couldn't help but be reminded of the days, weeks, months leading up to Peter's betrayal, and Halloween. How the silence would fall over their London flat. How Remus would take up refuge in one room of the two-room home, while Sirius would lay claim to the other, and they would studiously avoid one another for two days, or a week, or however long it took for Sirius to be ready for the fight. He didn't want to fight. Not now. There didn't seem to be any fight in him at the moment. He wanted to skip ahead, to the after. To the reconciliatory kisses. To the extra tenderness. To the fingers twisted in sweaty locks of…

"Just a crush?" he heard himself ask.

"Nothing more," Remus said. And Sirius let himself nod. He had had crushes, of course. The Ravenclaw prefect with the brilliant blue eyes. The young man with the tattoos at the motorbike shop. The bloke at the café that Sirius had gone to ever day for a fortnight when Remus had been away. Crushes were fine. Crushes were okay. Crushes wouldn't cause him to fall apart and lie on his bedroom floor and let the world spin away from him. He could survive a crush.

Remus got up and came around the table, sitting next to Sirius. Sirius realized he was still gripping the table only when Remus reached over to take both his hands into his own, long-fingered ones. Sirius tried to smile at Remus, but wasn't sure he had managed it quite. "You are the great love of my life, Padfoot. You. No one else. Got it?"

Sirius nodded again, leaning into Remus as the other man leaned into him. As he rested his forehead against Remus's, he breathed in deep, smelling tea, and books, and all those smells that made Remus unceasingly Remus. "I love you," Sirius whispered, just to see if Remus would say it again.

Remus kissed him instead.


End file.
